


lost souls in revelry

by zeniism (orphan_account)



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7459665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/zeniism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>times change and people change with them. robots, however, don't change at all.<br/>everything is subject to change, except for moonbin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lost souls in revelry

It is the year 2095 and the world has entered upon a new frontier. Robotics. An expensive, yet beautiful masterpiece has become the humanoids of this age, something that not even our forefathers and ancestors could have even imagined. For now the future of the world is bright, even as the sun sets on past dreams and failed attempts at perfection and out of the ashes of human imperfection, they rise. Rise to the epitome of glory and beauty that we as humans can never dream of reaching.

Flawless faces have been sculpted to create a sense of kindred spirits between two races, yet chiseled features are the very things that tell us apart from them. They are whom we strive to be, perfect. Though they are servants, slaves to society, to humanity and whatever whimsical fancies the imagination conjures, bought and sold like animals, we will find in the near future that we have made the drastic mistake of molding our creation with a mind akin to our own. The need to love, to be free is a flame kindled in us all; as it is with us, so it is with them.

Like two separate strands of vermilion and shaded darker hues of crimson, their destinies twist and writhe and tighten together until the whole universe bleeds the color of freedom and not even God can tear them apart. To the rhythmic drumming of their heartbeats, blue skies bleed orange from bruises of pink and purple as they paint stars across the fading horizons in all their youthful purity and short lived glories.

—–

Minhyuk’s eyes are sunshine. A warm hazel gaze that sparkles and ignites like glowing embers of a fire, that is Minhyuk’s gaze to Moon Bin. And the sinner desires to enclose the younger in a painful embrace of lean arms and hardening bodies. A hiss of a fanciful delusion wanes in the cooling air of the approaching darkness, the disappearing sun kindling the flame of rationality within this flesh machine, almost as if it is it’s dying wish. Sometimes he dreams of freedom the color of the sky, and adventure the color of trees. Sometimes he thinks he’s human. It’s always a dream that burns and flits away, ashes on a dancing wind. So all Moon Bin can do is smile while all these thoughts run around in his head and inflict more pain than they will ever be worth.

—–

 

The thought flickers in his mind that something is dreadfully, horridly wrong when Minhyuk first suggests it to him, wide wide eyes and a quirk of pink lips. Because it’s Minhyuk, he doesn’t prepare for the evil that will no doubt befall him, and he doesn’t hesitate.

 

Moon Bin knows he’s slowly losing his grasp on sanity. He only grunts in response, to Minhyuk’s question as he takes a sip of his beer. Cold beads of sweat run down the bottle as his fingers wrap around it’s body, and he finds himself shamed in front of the shameless. Moon Bin doesn’t fight because it isn’t his place to fight, and his loyalty is forever to one who looks at someone else for affirmation. Or maybe Moon Bin doesn’t fight because he just doesn’t want to. Maybe he yearns for excitement just as Minhyuk does. Maybe he’s tired of mansions, of gold, and of diamonds. Perhaps he just wants the world to see him… or perhaps for Minhyuk to look at him… and only him.

Moon Bin tells himself he is doing this because he wants Minhyuk to be happy. That he’s doing this because Minhyuk is his master and best friend. Because Minhyuk sees him as an equal no one else does.

It’s all a lie.

 

But then again, what is truth. Moon Bin is starting to believe it is a figment of a wild imagination. And perhaps all it has ever been is as such. Something he is desperate to hold on to. Something that is as mythical as the gods of the greeks.  
It’s all a lie.

 

He sees more and more of the young master disappearing, more of him falling apart. He doesn’t know what to say, no, can’t say a thing. Because it’s not his place. There’s a cold grimace that slides across that pale face as he holds the weeping boy closer to his mechanical heart.

 

He promises himself that he’ll do what he can to set Minhyuk free.

—–

Park Minhyuk is all mischief and false smiles. The incarnate of lucifer on earth, is what Moon Bin dubs him as. Yet he still follows him, faith and true to his young master.

Minhyuk is long past seeing Moon Bin as an equal, and sometimes, something cold and distant settles in his eyes as he speaks to the humanoid… and Moon Bin thinks that is all Minhyuk sees him as. And it’s a thought he cannot shake and he’s losing his mind. But he smiles, he agrees, and he looks at Minhyuk, and only Minhyuk. Because that is what Minhyuk wants him to do; Moon Bin is subject to the whims and fancies of another.

It’s not that he minds… it’s just that he hates the feeling of being a puppet. But that is his lot in this life, and he will drink this bitter cup, whatever it may be. Even if it means he is bound to his young master forever.  
Art sprawls before them in a choir of crimson, indigo, and veridian on the expanse of an otherwise lifeless gray wall. The dizzying chemical smell hangs in the air still, clouding Moon Bin’s senses in a familiar, yet uncomfortable haze. The paint canister still lies in the firm grip of bony fingers, warm from his touch, as he watches his accomplice spray the finishing touches.

It’s quiet in this part of Seoul, both strange and comforting, and Moon Bin thinks he could do this all night. But time is not on his side. A side glance at his watch has him saying, “ We’ve gotta go.” The black-clad boy only looks at him with soft, large eyes, an impish grin serving as his response. And Moon Bin wishes this could last forever.  
The humanoid smiles back, the streetlight reflecting in the gray of his eyes, stopping to drop the canister into the black backpack. Minhyuk comes to stand beside him, handing him the can of black spray paint. His breath echoes through the alley and reverberates through Moon’s Bin’s metal skull, and he can feel it. Minhyuk is proud. Proud of his work, and as Moon Bin rises, shrugging the bag’s straps onto his shoulders, he can see the sparkle in those dark chocolate eyes.

“Don’t you ever desire to just stay out here all night and watch the stars?” Moon Bin can feel the expectant gaze the eighteen year-old fixes on him. Beautifully chapped lips purse as he tries to decide how to respond.

He only repeats his earlier statement, eyes shining gray in the approaching night. “Young Master, we must return.” And Moon Bin doesn’t have to struggle to be obeyed… at least this once.

They don’t wander back to the white bastille that awaits them at the mansion. No. Instead, they trade cargo pants and t-shirts for suits and ties, and make an appearance at the Lounge. The music is loud, too loud for Moon Bin’s taste, but Minhyuk finds his place on the dance floor. His body jerks and rolls in a series of precise movements, and that combined with obvious practice makes it a wonder to watch.

Moon Bin finds himself at the bar, glass shelves lined with colorful concoctions and poisons that summon illusions. Neon lights flash as he seats himself, eyes never leaving the body of the young master, and when he gulps down a shot of vodka, he doesn’t feel the sting. He doesn’t feel.

He doesn’t feel when women in too much makeup send looks lined with khol his way, or when they curl red lips (too red), and white teeth glisten at him like a tiger’s. He just wants to getaway. But he doesn’t leave, because this is Minhyuk’s getaway. He’ll stay for a few hours more, until he’s drunk, and Moon Bin has to carry him home.

—–

The mansion is quiet, too quiet and too dark and eerie and Moon Bin gets a sick feeling in his gut. Something isn’t right. Minhyuk lumbers along beside him, his head lowered and not as drunk as he was an hour before. He’s quiet as they traverse through marbled halls, and then it’s home free… almost. There’s a sudden yank on Minhyuk’s hair that jerks his head backwards, and he lets out a startled yell. Moon Bin turns around to rescue, but against this man, he is useless. And so he watches Minhyuk disappear into the darkness, terrified brown eyes wide as his father drags him around the corner.

Moon Bin shakes uncontrollably in his own room. He collapses into himself and in the darkness, he unravels as everything he’s worked so hard to protect is torn from him and dashed on the ground. He wants to cry, but he cannot. It isn’t his place to cry; he isn’t human. What he is feeling is not really pain. It’s all a big delusion, his life. So Moon Bin waits and waits. And waits. And waits. Because that’s all he can do. It will never be his place to act.

Moon Bin hears Minhyuk’s footsteps before he even sees his face. The young master is a ghost of who he was only an hour before. He stands shirtless before Moon Bin, the ghastly light of the moon illuminating a violent story of blue and black bruises that decorate pale skin. He stands there, as if frozen, and Moon Bin hurts. He stands, and in a stride he is across the room, wrapping ivory arms around that slender form and resting his chin on that curly head, and leading him to the small bed in the far corner of the room. Away from light, and away from the world.

Minhyuk sobs are rage and pain mixed together into a bitter cup as he clings to Moon Bin like a burr. They lay there like that, pale bodies on white sheets in a world full of darkness. He holds the shaking boy as he cries, and listens to the ticking of the clock in the room, and listens to Minhyuk’s heartbeat and ragged breathes until he hears his voice.

“He hit me.” It’s a whimper, and the humanoid draws Minhyuk closer into his embrace, ignoring the small gasps of pain that escape from his lips. Moon Bin is angry. But he’s useless.

“He’ll pay.” Minhyuk’s threat is a hiccup, that echoes through the room, but Moon Bin hears and understands. Minhyuk is done letting his father abuse him and mistreat him just like the man had done to his many women. Moon Bin had seen them. Purple and blue against red and white and tear stained skin. Mr. Park treated them like canvases, onto which he poured our red lust, blue depression, black anger, and greed spelled out in tears. It was sick.

“We’ll make him pay.” It’s a whisper, but Minhyuk hears, and a bruised arm reaches up to ruffle Moon Bin’s golden brown hair in affection.

 

“Thank you.” Moon Bin doesn’t understand what he’s being thanked for but he places a brotherly kiss on his master’s head.

 

Minhyuk falls asleep in his arms.

—–

 

Two kids dance like there will never be a tomorrow to remind them of present heartbreaks and music washes away all their pain along with lingering sins. But Minhyuk never speaks to Moon Bin. Perfectly arched brows furrow, and that perfect mouth frowns in concern as Moon Bin watches Minhyuk dance.

Moon Bin doesn’t question, doesn’t even look, because he doesn’t dare to find out. He’ll find out soon enough. So he dances under lingering stares and overly bright lights until sweat slicks golden skin and his hair hangs in strings on his head. If Minhyuk is sparing him from something, he’ll left him. _After all_ , Moon Bin thinks as he grabs the towel Minhyuk tosses him, _I’m not in a position to do anything more._

—–

His face falls and dismay lids his eyes as he looks upon the scene. Minhyuk has the audacity to look upon them without remorse, laying there in all his splendor. Beside Moon Bin, Mr. Park shakes with anger and rage, before those beady eyes leave the visage of his smirking son to blaze into Moon Bin’s face. Large hands grab him by his hair, and even as he is dragged to a doom he can’t even begin to imagine, Minhyuk’s eyes gaze after him, and Moon Bin thinks he sees fear in those familiar dark pools. And he can’t smile in triumph because right now, he’ll suffer for a crime he never committed, and it’s Minhyuk’s sin he will bleed for. So he doesn’t smile.

Calloused hands roam over pale expanses of skin, and Moon Bin tries not to feel as he is ripped apart and defiled and touched. All he can see is the pale outlines of Minhyuk’s body, and the supple body of his sleeping stepmother, both wrapped in sins of scarlet. Betrayal stares him in the face, scoffing and sneering as his body is torn apart to appease the anger of a man who own rubies and diamonds and him. And even after it all, when he’s alone, tears run down pallid cheeks in disbelief and the world continues on.

Moon Bin doesn’t emerge from his room, and looses track of time. Minhyuk doesn’t come to visit him, and Moon Bin nurses bruised skin and shattered innocence, yet its all undone in dark hours and hes left alone again in his pain. And Mr. Park smirks because Moon Bin cannot end it, cant rise up… because it isn’t his place and Mon Bin can’t seem to forget it. He thinks of running away, of self-destruction, of freedom. He dreams of death and in every tear that leaks from grey eyes, there is desperation. He tries to curl into himself, but the pain still won’t go away.

Weeks turn into months, and days drone in and out and Moon Bin’s pain doesn’t show in the mirror as he looks at himself. Minhyuk comes to visit him when the sun shines high in the sky; his father has left a few minutes before. He’s all bruises and bones on previously unmarked skin, and Moon Bin doesn’t recognize him. He wants to hurt, to marr, to repay tenfold this boy what has been done to him… but he cannot bring himself to do so because it isn’t his place. And he can see it. He can see that Minhyuk is remorseful, and Moon Bin wonders how long it will last as he chiseled wraps arms around his master once again. Because dark eyes shows that Minhyuk knows what his father did, and Minhyuk is drowning in his own guilt. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” Moon Bin repeats time and time again, assuring Munhyuk until it becomes a mantra to heaven. But it changes nothing, because they both know it isn’t alright. It will never be alright.

Tears stain a flawless face and they both drown in the darkness if despair.

Mr. Park divorces his wife a few months later, at little while after Minhyuk celebrates his twentieth birthday. He then marries a younger woman, one in her late twenties, and Minhyuk sleeps with her too. On his father’s bed. Moon Bin says nothing and spends his days in the dance studio on Minhyuk’s campus. He throws himself into dancing while Minhyuk throws himself at his father’s women. Few resist his advances.

Moon Bin is no better.

It’s a cool October night when Minhyuk climbs into his bed, Moon Bin’s gray t-shirt loose on his slender frame. Moon Bin is on the border between unconsciousness and consciousness, but Minhyuk’s breath on his ear jolts him awake with embarrassing sensitivity and his eyes flutter open. Minhyuk lays unmoving beside him for a few moments before he speaks.

“Let’s set fire to this place.”

The humanoid says nothing, just stares at the wall with his back to his master and thinks. Thinks about how this place is a prison of the finest material, of marble and pearl. How sunlight seems to shine anywhere but here, and how he’s trapped and suffocating. And he wants to be free. But Moon Bin is bitter because he knows he cannot speak his mind, and he cannot speak because he is not better than an animal. And his mechanical heart beats in agony. He hopes this place does burn. Burn with all it’s painful memories and deceiving luxuries. He hopes this house of lies burns to the ground and the winds sweeps away its ashes. He hopes, but he says, “No.”

Minhyuk says nothing as he turns on his side, and Moon Bin lies awake up into the early hours of the morning. He’s haunted by the fact that God only grants wishes to humans. And human is something he is not. He smirks into the darkness. As if that’s he isn’t reminded daily. He’s tired. Tired of everyone looking at him and knowing that by his perfection, he is branded inhuman by the ones who created him in the first place. He is state-of-the-art technology. But at what cost to him? He is only a toy.

Fate decides the granting of earthling wishes, and Moon Bin’s wish is granted. He’s sure that it’s Minhyuk who grants his silent plea. Minhyuk who grips his hand a bit too tightly as they run through flames. Minhyuk, who’s cheeks are flushed ( Moon Bin isn’t sure if it’s from excitement, or the heat ), but either way, Moon Bin is grateful.

They scream to the skies in triumph as the marble walls fall, and the shout of their victory ascends to the heavens over the angry cackling of orange flames. Orange and blue flames that at the fringes of a November evening, and grey eyes glisten with unshed tears. And it’s beautiful.

—–

From then on, victory makes youthful minds wild and brazen, and Minhyuk moves into an apartment soon after, lugging Moon Bin along with him. They spend their days of autumn riding through towns and romping in forsaken meadows, indulging Minhyuk in his childish desires. Pinics, horror movies, boat rides - all of it. Pale limbs and outstretched arms welcome him at the night’s dark hours, and faithfully follow him into the the sunlight of day. There is nothing to be unsure of, nothing to doubt. There is only admiration, and Moon Bin finds himself too content, too happy, and he does not see the signs of fading fascination, and the hardening glint in those eyes. Still, Moon Bin holds on, because he refuses to see what he thinks is not there. While Moon Bin becomes all smiles and programmed laughter, Minhyuk becomes pursed lips, hostile glares.

( Moon Bin won’t ever know how much Minhyuk wishes him to be real… to be human. )

One day, Minhyuk is no longer the slender, scruffy-haired kid Moon Bin knew so well. Instead, he is a cunning businessman, smoldering dark eyes, and slicked back hair. And as Moon Bin watches Minhyuk grow into a beast perhaps more evil than his own father, the humanoid wears and tears, until one day, his gears creak. And one day, after wedding bells and a flurry of white fabric and satin smiles, Moon Bin opens his eyes to blinding sunlight and the rust of old things, and wonders how he ended up here. He’s not needed in Minhyuk’s life anymore, and sometime, it all feels like a dream to Moon Bin. But now, as he succumbs to loneliness, all he can do is replay the memories with bitter hopes to be restored, to be desired. And sometimes, he dreams he is. False hopes break his heart over and over, and he thinks this ironic. He doesn’t have a heart… and yet he loves so deeply.

“Too deeply,” he whispers to the everlasting blue of the skies. There is only the eerie hissing of a playful wind to reply to the lost soul. This is his only sin, a fault none would accuse him of. He performs as he is programmed too, because that is what he is. A machine. Too perfect to be human. Too intelligent to be a simple machine. And it is like this, he fades into oblivion.

**Author's Note:**

> i always love comments and such! thank you!!


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